I Wish I May
by PhoenixWormwood137
Summary: Phineas, devastated and broken, wishes on a star... It's kinda complicated. You could just read it. If you want. That'd be cool. "T" for character death and some violence.


**I don't know why I wrote this. It just came to me when I watched "Comet ****Kermillian today.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phineas and Ferb.**

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><p>"<em>I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight…"<em>

Every word was emphasized, and unimaginable despair was pushed into the syllables, until they were filled to bursting with longing and regret.

A small boy stood at his bedroom window, searching the night sky for the one pinprick of starlight in the vast black expanse.

"I _wish _I _may,_ I _wish_ I _might_ –"

Tiny, scrawny fingers gripped the windowsill; huge, navy blue eyes stared up into space. The star sparkled. The tears glittered. And all was quiet in Danville.

.

Eleven-year-old Phineas Flynn had always been small for his age. No one had ever noticed it before now – he was normally such an energetic, quick-thinking boy that his height didn't seem to matter. He filled up more space than ten ordinary kids with his optimism and adventurousness.

But ever since the fire, nothing mattered to him anymore. He'd stay still and silent in a corner, clutching his pet platypus to his chest and crying without making any noise. Like a terrified fugitive on the run from reality.

Now people noticed how short he was. How skinny. He was just a sliver of his old self, a shadow. Or maybe it was that not that he was gone from his shadow, but his shadow was gone from him.

He was only half here.

Only half there.

.

Ferb was gone.

.

Phineas wouldn't talk about it, not to _anyone, _except Perry.

For the people who came to visit the Flynn-Fletcher family, it was a slightly scary sight – Phineas, in some corner, would rock back and forth, those quiet tears streaming down his cheeks, murmuring to the oblivious platypus in his arms. Especially for those who knew what he had been like before – normal and cheerful and definitely more sane than he looked now.

.

But they didn't know. They _didn't know. _Phineas caught the looks on their startled faces, the comments and inquiries about his health. But, he told Perry under his breath, if they knew, they wouldn't be so rude. He wasn't mentally balanced right now, he admitted it. And he didn't think it was something to be ashamed of. If he was totally fine after the most traumatic event of the century, then, well, what kind of a soulless ghost was he?

.

He could talk to Perry because Perry didn't understand. Perry didn't know what it meant when he whispered to him about the fire and the _smoke_ and the way his brother couldn't breathe in the dark, thick, _hot _air –

The flames, the flames, after the smoke, dancing up to meet them as if it was all some sort of silly game, chasing them as they ran. Phineas could still hear them, if he tried hard enough, hear them crackling and _laughing._ And he still cried, at that laughter. And because his eyes could still feel the smoke. And, most of all, because of what those flames did to Ferb when he couldn't run any longer.

"It was only a few seconds," Phineas said, squeezing Perry tight. "Only a couple seconds, and then he stopped. And then he said he couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he keep going?" And then he'd cry some more, because of the burning, burning, burning.

The burning house. The burning wood that fell between them in that split second after Ferb gasped that he couldn't get any more oxygen. The burning screams from across the flaming barrier that separated them. The screams that lit Phineas' utter _terror_. The burning sobs, the ones that came from his own body.

.

"I wish I may, I wish I might."

It was weeks later, weeks after the fire, but Phineas still hadn't talked to anyone but his pet. The cold evening lifted his hair as he looked up at the sky.

"Let me see Ferb again," he whispered to the stars.

They said nothing. Just like Perry, they were unfeeling, tuned out. Light years away.

Years.

Time. It was time that separated the brothers. And Phineas knew how to get around that.

"Thank you," he breathed. And the stars didn't hear him.

He slipped on his coat – it was eleven at night, but he knew what he was going to do. What he had to do.

On the way to the museum he had to pass it – the old house where they had lived, when they were happy, when they were together.

He trudged down the street, hands deep in his pockets, the hood on his jacket drawn up around his angled face. Maple Drive.

Maple Drive.

Echoes seemed to bounce down the street as Phineas passed.

Laugher, catchphrases, the roars of improbable sun-beating planes and the hum of gravity-defying devices. The happy, high voice of Isabella, the girl he hadn't talked to since…

"Whatcha doin'?"

Phineas looked around. He could've sworn he heard the carefree, singsong question directed at him, but there was no one, no one around.

_Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry._

Leaves blew across Phineas' shoes, and a chill iced the inside of his stomach. He was passing the house. The gutted, burnt-out house, the broken shell that had once cradled his dreams.

He couldn't help it. He looked.

The echoes of giggles and endless summer days died, suddenly, eerily.

Instead, that long, drawn-out scream, the epitome of agony, filled Phineas' ears.

He hurried on past the dead house.

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><p>The time machine's cushions were soft, the lever cold in his hands. He pulled it toward himself, and the dizzy rush of spacetime caught him and tossed him back, back to the time it was all so happy.<p>

His favourite day – the machine had taken him to his favourite day. A shriek split the air, and he smiled. This wasn't his brother's dying breath, this was his sister, quite alive and acting like the normal, nosey girl he had known.

"But, mom! They built a giant, rope-jumping robot and – PHINEAS, WILL YOU TURN THAT THING OFF, I AM TRYING TO BUST YOU!"

He heard his own voice, and there was a smile to it. "We can't, it's become self-aware! The jumping-roping was his idea!"

Phineas took a huge breath, trying to freeze the butterflies in his stomach, and put his hand on the gate. He knew one push would equal surprise and welcome on his own counterpart's face, outrage and yelling on Candace's part ("The time machine! Again? _You _from the future? Would you _cut_ that_ out_!"), and silent appraisal on Ferb's features. He, Phineas, would get to see his brother again – alive and well.

He couldn't do it.

The thought of Ferb's reaction, just picturing him – it was too much. It would be too much. He wouldn't be able to go back to his own time. He wouldn't be able to go back to the nightmare.

But what use was he there, anyway? All he did was hug Perry and cry.

He put his hand on the gate again.

But, in the future, the horrible messed up future – his mom needed him. His dad needed him. Maybe Perry needed him, who really knew?

He took his hand off the gate again, and sprinted away, putting as much distance between him and his heart's desire as possible. He just wanted to see his brother again. But it wasn't something he could have right now. Maybe some other day, some day when he could face the possibility of going from blissful summer to dystopian winter.

He threw himself back into the time machine, and was halfway to setting the dial to his true time when he stopped.

He needed something to remember Ferb by.

He pulled the lever slowly, thinking hard, and was once again sucked into the purple glowing hallway that was the portal between times.

It was night when he stepped out, night sometime in Danville. The stars were spread across the sky, but most wonderful of all, a comet was glowing over the city.

A stranger was passing on the street, and Phineas ran up to him. "H-hi," he stuttered. "Do you know where Phineas Flynn lives?"

"Yeah," the stranger said. "Who doesn't?"

"Me."

"Well, I'll tell you where he lives. Maple Drive, in the yellow house – are you related to him? You two look awfully alike."

"I'm sort of related to him, yeah," Phineas said. "Thanks for the directions."

The stranger nodded and kept walking, and Phineas set off down the street that meant heartache for him once more.

So, his future self had recovered enough to live in the very house Ferb had died in, live in the one that once had housed so many memories? That was comforting.

And, sure enough, there was the house, rebuilt and repainted…

He ran into the backyard, without hesitating this time, and saw an old man staring up through a telescope at the comet that blazed over them.

Phineas recognized the triangle-shaped head.

"Hi," he said, walking up to the man. "Mind if I take a look through that?"

The man turned, and he found himself looking into a tired but smiling face. It was he, Phineas – wrinkled and bent with age. Normally, it would have been bit creepy for the eleven-year-old to see an eighty-one year old version of himself, but right now, he didn't care much.

"Hello, Phineas," the future Phineas Flynn said. "I've been expecting you."

"Can I take a look?" the words were very quiet and shy, almost scared.

"Of course you can," Mr. Flynn said, and handed the telescope to the boy, who peered through it and felt his heart flood with love and longing. There it was – the picture of he and Ferb, carved into the comet seventy summers ago.

"Thanks," he whispered, handing the telescope back. "I – I couldn't see him for real, but I had to see the picture – the adventure – make sure it was real, I didn't imagine it, I wasn't dreaming –"

"Phineas," the old man said, "You don't need to explain. I know exactly how you feel. I'm feeling it now."

"I won't forget, will I?"

"Never. Never, ever. Ferb's the best friend, the best brother. No one will ever replace him."

"Good. And he'll always be – in here?" Phineas' hand jerked awkwardly to his chest, and the old man smiled down at him.

"Always."

.

_Fin_

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><p><strong>Please review! And thanks for reading!<strong>


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